I was made. I’m sure of it. I was made by something very, very intelligent. I was made for a purpose. How do I know? Ha ha! You, the reader, were hoping that I would say one of two things: 1. You were hoping that I had some new, deep insight that would put the nail in the coffin of the doubter, or 2. You were hoping that I would make some lame argument that you could easily debunk.
Sorry, I will say neither. But before you stop reading, know this: nothing I am about to say is intended to sway your opinion about your own existence. I would simply like to bare my soul for a moment.
Why do I know I was made? Because I desire to intimately know my wife. Because something deep within me stirs when I hear my son cry. Because I am moved with compassion when I see another person suffer. Because I long to stir the soil and plant seeds. Because a song is more than wavelengths and decibels to my intricately designed ears. Because a brilliant sunset after a tiresome day causes my soul to be satisfied with my work. Because I feel guilt when I disobey my conscience. Because I seek purpose from something bigger than myself. Because, no matter how many indulgences in which I partake, I cannot please myself. I cannot fill the hole. I cannot satisfy my soul’s yearning. I am in a life-long state of thirst and hunger for something that gives meaning, provides answers and ultimately gives love.
I believe that I was made to be loved and then to give love to others, starting with my family and extending out to every human being. I believe that I was made to subdue this earth and tend to it lovingly, not for greed and self-service but for the purpose of blessing others. What is more human than sharing a meal in the company of friends, brothers and sisters? I believe that the work for which I was created is a daily lesson in self-denial which results in true happiness. I believe that I was made with a conscience which can be nurtured with actions that honor that conscience, or it can be silenced by decisions which deny it.
I love humanity! This state of being in which we live is truly a miracle! We are shown, by and through our existence, just barely enough to identify a Maker. And yet, not enough to be sure. We feel the tug toward a greater sense of purpose, but fear the ridicule of those who doubt its existence. I believe that, if there is a Maker, there never will be a definite answer to the question of whether or not there is One in our current mortal state. But I’m not going to share the reasoning behind that belief. Not at this time, anyway.
Suffice it to say that I know I’m sumthin’, cuz God don’t make no junk.